"He will come back," Tom said softly. And Kyrie realized he had shifted, and so had she, and they were both naked, hugging on the top step of the platform.
Before she could answer, a dripping-wet Rafiel walked around the shark tank, below them, and halfway up the stairs. "I'll be damned if I can explain all the trace on the scene now," he said, ruefully. "They're going to find scales, and blood of at least three different animals. But," he said, "I don't think that the murders will go on." He looked incredibly tired and somehow defeated, even as he announced good news. "She . . . shifted as she died. They will find human remains in the tank this time. Female."
Tom, pulling Kyrie against him, shuddered. And Kyrie said, "Why did you let things get that advanced?"
"I don't know. It could be some form of pheromones," he said. "Or else, she put something in my drink." He looked up, his golden eyes very sad. "I know that it was all delusion. I know she just wanted a snack. But for a moment, it was like being a kid again, back when I was in love with Alice." He shrugged and sat on the bottom step of the platform, and leaned against the railing. "I guess time never winds backwards."
And Kyrie who remembered something from the fight, looked to the other side of the steps, where Conan sat, looking just as dejected as Rafiel. "Conan," she said, "what was it Dire said, about the Great Sky Dragon borrowing your form?"
Conan shook. He looked up at her, seeming drained and pale. "He . . . he didn't . . . I mean, he can't be everywhere at once, but just like he can listen through his underlings . . . he can make us take his form. With all of his powers. Only if he does it for long, we die."
Kyrie blinked at him. "He made you take his form?"
"Just . . . just for a moment. Then he realized I couldn't stand it . . ."
"And he realized he cared for you?" Tom said, skeptically.
Conan shook his head. "No. He realized he cared for you. And he thought . . ." He sighed. "He thought you wouldn't forgive him if he killed me. Even when . . . even if it was to kill Dire. So he . . . let me go. He told me . . . in my mind, that I was now yours. That I'm to do what you tell me."
Tom coughed. "Mine?" Something like a choked laughter escaped him. "No offense, Conan, you're a nice guy. But the only person I ever wanted to be mine was Kyrie, and it wasn't in that sense. If he gave you to me, I give you to yourself. You're yours."
"I was afraid of that," Conan said, dolefully.
"Afraid," Kyrie said.
Conan shrugged. "Yes. I don't know how . . . not to belong to someone. I've taken orders from someone since before I was an adult. I'm not used to being my own person."
"Try it," she said, not without sympathy. "You can get used to it. And you still belong to us. Just as a friend, not a . . . possession."
"Truly?" he asked. "And I can . . . still work at The George?"
Kyrie felt Tom tremble with silent laughter. "If you want to. But I thought you were going to sing for your supper."
Conan blushed. "Maybe someday. But for now, I'm just glad to have a job."
"And on that, gentlemen and lady," Tom said, "I'm starving, and I think we should go to The George for some food. Because, you know it and I know it, that the old bastard is going to come back and try to kill us and right now another shift might kill me."
"Maybe he won't try to kill us," Old Joe said. He was standing alone. The crab shifter was nowhere to be seen. "Maybe he's afraid now?"
"I very much doubt it," Tom said, drily. But he added, "And Joe? Thank you. You saved our lives, I think."
Old Joe shrugged, but blushed and said, "You do what you have to."
"Yeah," Tom said. "At any rate, let's go eat something. What about your friend? Does he want to come?"
"Who? He? No. He never does. He doesn't feel very comfortable as a human, anymore. All he wants is his aquarium and to watch life go by."